


Photographs and Memories

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Devotion [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Community: fma_fic_contest, Gen, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  That’s all I have left of you.<br/>Disclaimer:  I swear I’m not making any money on this.<br/>Notes:  Title and summary taken from Jim Croce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographs and Memories

“Are you all right?” Paninya asked, laying her hand on Winry’s shoulder. 

“Mm.” Winry nodded, giving her friend a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she glanced up toward the attic. “That’s the last place I need to check.”

“Do you want me to do it? I can bring down anything that looks interesting.” From her time as a thief – no matter how short that time actually had been, within the span of things – Paninya had acquired an uncanny ability to spot things that might be overlooked by others. 

“Please.” Winry watched as her friend pulled down the folding staircase and began climbing it. “Watch your head up there!” she shouted, earning a raspberry in return. Shaking her head, Winry took a long look around the upstairs of the house where she’d grown up. Nothing really remained upstairs, not after Granny had fallen down the steps late last year. Everything that she might’ve needed had been moved to the ground floor and anything left over had been gone over carefully during Winry’s trips to Resembool. Starting downstairs, Winry trailed her fingers over the railing, a faint smile on her face from the memory of sliding down the banister, with Granny yelling at her to use her feet, not her butt. 

Taking a deep breath, Winry walked into the living area. Granny’s work table was up against the wall, the bulletin board above it still holding photographs. She licked her lips, reaching up for the first thumbtack. The photo was of Auntie Trisha, Ed and Al, and Al was still a baby, a pacifier in his mouth. Hand trembling, Winry took the picture down, then the next, of her parents with Pinako, her mother’s stomach so huge and round. The next picture was of her, with Ed and Al, Pinako barely visible in the background. Her sight blurred at the sight of a picture of Den as a puppy, staring in wide-eyed wonder at a newly-hatched chick. A photo of Ed, before his automail surgery, a spoon in his mouth. Al, in armor, with her and Den. Granny, critiquing her work. Mr. Hohenheim, with Granny’s old drinking buddies. 

Out of everyone in the photos, and with Granny’s death, she was almost the only one left.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, “It’s time. If I’m going to learn to lead my own life, I need to let you go.” 

Sliding them all inside a manila envelope she’d laid on the table earlier, Winry folded it closed.


End file.
